**The Warning**
My life fell apart. No matter which way you looked at it. Well, except for one thingmy daughter. Of course, there were problems, but nothing unbearable, nothing unsolvable. The rest, though…
*”Youre making trouble out of nothing,”* Granmy own motherwould tell me constantly. *”Look at poor old Lizzie down the road, battering her husband bloody. Your father used to knock me about, and I wore the same dress for yearsnever complained!”*
Shame and resentment coiled in my stomach. There was always that unspoken jabthat I couldnt even buy her a new dress. But with what? Anthony had stopped giving me money ages ago. I scrimped and saved, pinched pennies till they screamed, and still it wasnt enough. Mum played it casual, but she brought it up too often to be coincidence.
*”That Pauline next doorher daughter got her new slippers and a dressing gown from the market. Lovely, they are.”*
*”Mum, I dont have the money,* Id defend myself. *”Sophies at uniI want her to look decent, not like some charity case.”*
*”Im not asking for a thing,”* shed shrug, then vanish into the kitchenboiling the kettle, rummaging in the fridge. Dodging the conversation. I knew she was ashamed of me.
*”Look around you! Your mother-in-laws not some ogre, you knowalways slips you a nice bit of cash at Christmas,”* shed add.
Oh, she wasnt an ogre. She was worse. She devoured me in great, greedy mouthfuls. Every time Anthony visited her, hed come back and ignore me for a week, staring at me like a slug in a saladdisgusted, like I wasnt even human. All her doing. She had a way of twisting praise into poison. *”Oh, our Annies so busy, bless herno time to properly press a shirt.”* Or, *”Youre such a good lad, such a good lad! Married beneath you and never a word of complaint! Thank heavens little Sophie takes after you. Oh, what a tragedy if shed turned out like her mother!”* All said with a pitying shake of her head. Drip, drip, dripenough to make any man preen and sneer. And Anthony did both, looking at me like a lord at a beggar.
*”Look at Nataliethat hound of a husband cheating on her left and right,”* Mum droned on, her twisted version of therapy.
*”Anthony cheats too,”* I snapped. *”His whole office knowshe doesnt even hide it!”*
*”Well, you put up with it! A little straying never hurt anyonehell come crawling back.”*
*”Hes been crawling back for years,”* I whispered, remembering lipstick on collars, foreign hairs coiled on buttons, perfumes that werent mine. He didnt even pretend. Just laughed. *”Take it or leave it. Walk out, and well split the flat. Whod want you, anyway? Grey little mouse.”*
Why did I stay? The humiliations, the weeks of silence, the way he looked at me like I was hired helpunpaid, at that. When I dared say my wages werent enough, that Sophie needed a phone, a laptop, that all the kids had nice thingshed smirk. *”Get a better job. I pay the mortgage and the car. Thats plenty.”*
Once, I cracked. *”Youre spending it on Tanya! Everyone knowsdiamonds for her, scraps for us”*
His hand struck before I finished. Not hard. But the fact hed raised it at all… It was like slipping into a horror film. Any second now, a knight would ride in, credits would roll, and itd all be over. But Anthony just stood there, lips pressed tight, eyes cold and empty.
Friends would moan about their husbands*”Gives me the odd slap.”* I never understood. Hitting a woman, a child, even a dogonly in self-defence, in survival. But striking because Id dared speak? Oh, Id screamed. What else could I do? Hed wind me up, cold and calculated, till I snappedthen play the victim. *”Look at her, the hysteric.”*
I stayed for one reason. I still loved him. Still hoped. With every year, that hope grew thinner, ghostlieruntil I finally asked for a divorce.
Chaos. Even my mother-in-law took my side. *”Her or no one.”* I didnt believe her, but Anthonymummys boylistened. He came home with chrysanthemums (my favourite), mumbled *”I was wrong. Its only you.”* Love? The word choked him. We both knew it was a lie, but I chose to believe. I curled my hair, painted my nails, borrowed money from Mum for new lingerie. Followed every stupid womens magazine tip to the letter. But when youre not loved, it doesnt matter whats beneath your dress.
*”At least youre married,”* my single friend would sigh, ignoring my misery. *”And Sophies wonderful!”*
She jinxed it. My one joy curdled. Sophie started mirroring Anthonyhis disdain, his ice. Shed freeze me out for days, spit words like they burned her tongue. Stopped sharing anything. I only learned about her boyfriend from the neighbours, their smirking *”Ready to be a granny?”*
*”Cant wait!”* I chirped, while my insides turned to stone. She was only in her second year! I tried talking to hergot a shrieking tantrum. *”Youre a stupid, petty nobody! You dont know anything about love!”* I ran out, one thought ringing*where to drown*. The river was too shallow. Lucky me.
Lifes never flatnever all good or bad. I prayed for any spark, any feeling, just to escape the swamp of hate. And for once, someone listened.
Sophie scratched at the bathroom door while I soaked. We used to talk like this, years agome stewing in the tub, her perched on the laundry basket. My heart lurched, but I shoved hope down. She probably wanted moneyjeans, a dress.
*”Mum… Im pregnant.”*
My heart tried to drown itself. *”Its alright. A bit soon, but well manage. Your dadll helpjust hint at grandkids, and the grandmas will fight over babysitting”* I babbled, searching her face. A child! She was still a child!
*”Mum, shut up. Im not pregnant. Jack knows how to use a condom. But… he hugged me tight last night, whispered, Have a baby with me. And I cant stop thinking about it.”*
My limbs locked in the hot water. *”Have a baby with me.”* A line from a dream. One Id forgottenwhich wasnt like me. In that dream…
*”Annie, meet Jackhead of programming.”*
Anthony was all charm in public, so I played along, even knowing Tanya lurked in some dark corner, new diamonds glinting.
*”Jack, lovely to meet you.”*
He shook my hand. His eyes were unevenone slightly largergiving him a clownish charm.
*”An old injury,”* he explained, catching my stare. *”Karate.”* Unfazed, he studied me back. *”Youre stunning, Annie.”*
I floundered. Forgotten how to take a compliment, how to flirthow to live.
*”Need the loo?”* he teased, pitying.
*Dont pity me.* I nodded coldly, fled.
Cut to a field. People everywhere, but I only saw Jack. He stacked logs, lit a matchone flame roared to life. He watched me through the fire, a look I hadnt seen in years.
Cut to dancing. A restaurant blaring music. His lips at my ear: *”Have a baby with me!”* I laughed, pretended not to hear. He dragged me outside, stars above, whispering it again, kissing my temple.
Cut. My throat pulsed. *”I cant. Im married.”*
*”To what? A ghost? Everyone knows about his mistress! Sophies grownshell understand. Marry me!”*
*”No!”*
Cut. A funeral. Jack in a coffinbeaten beyond recognition. Wrong place, wrong time. I didnt cry. I was already dead. Except I wasnt.
Cut. Divorce. Anthony laughing as he took our flat, banished me to some crumbling outskirts. Sophie married, moved to Canada. Alone. Parents crumbling into senile toddlers. No grandkids to cradlejust nappies and nursing homes.
